


Fathering

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [76]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bedtime, Discipline, M/M, Spanking, Tessera, parental angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 76: Anonymous.  John exercises some of his parenting rights with Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathering

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright notice: I hold the copyright for Mistress Tess & Tessera, original characters, and multiple storylines associated with her. Someday (hopefully sooner than later) you'll see her in a series of novels, I ask that at this time others refrain from use of the character without express permission. She is allowed to play in fanfic, I just request that I know about it. Frankly, I hesitate to post any of the fics with her in them, it's always a struggle... but... here we are.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

John puts a calm hand on his boy’s shoulder as they mount the last set of stairs.

“Sam. You’re to go wash up, and we’ll have a bite to eat.”

“Not hungry, dad.”

“Sam.” His tone is firm, kind, and he gets a sigh and a yessir, and he lets it pass. He pauses before he tries the door handle, and hears quiet. It took him a while to look over the Impala, but Sam’s calmer now, so it was worth it. He’d remembered the early days after Mary’s death, when he would leave Sam strapped into his car seat as he worked on the Impala, remembered how he would just talk to Dean, who would sit cross-legged next to John’s red tool box, exactly as John had asked him to do, remembered how he’d talk calmly about the work he was doing, finding it kept Dean occupied, and himself calmer. He’d tried it while they were downstairs, pulling the tires off, and had been pleased to see it work, whether Sam knew what he was doing or not. 

Tess has changed, wearing a soft black cotton pant suit, and she immediately goes to the kitchen, lays out two places. John turns to his youngest. 

“Sam, go shower, all right?”

“Dean?”

“No, Sammy. Just get cleaned up, and eat something first.”

“He’s asleep, Sam. He’s worn out, and you look tired too.” 

John can see his son waver at Tess' words, wanting to trust the both of them, and the lure of a hot shower – one of the boy’s weaknesses - seems to decide the issue, because he takes his bag into the bathroom without further protest or argument.

Tess smiles at her old friend. “Shall I go take care of him, while you eat something?”

“No. Tess…” 

“Having second thoughts about handing the reins over?”

“Not exactly. Sam… what perfume is it you’re wearing,” he asks, blunter than he’d like to be, but too tired out and worried to make an effort otherwise.

She looks startled. “Um. Lily of the valley, I think.”

He smiles. He did startle her, she doesn’t usually vacillate like that. He loves that about her. “His girl used to wear it,” he said gruffly. “I had to drag it out of him down there, but I could tell there was something more on his mind than looking forward to another spanking.”

“Oh, John…” She’s distressed for a moment, looking up at him. 

“He wasn’t even a quarter of the handful Dean was today, I’ll take care of it,” he says softly, covering one of her strong hands with his own, and she nods, then gestures at the plate in front of him. “What about this hunt of yours?” They both hear the sound of the shower turning off, and she sets a new portion out, and shoos John off. 

“An anonymous tip today shed some light. We’re not discussing it tonight. Get cleaned up. I’ll keep my distance.”

“Tess. Thank you.”

John slips in as Sam’s drying off. “Sam. You go eat something.” He gets a tired nod in reply. Sam slides into his place at the table a moment later, too exhausted to worry about Tess, though he knows damn well he’s got a spanking coming, and hates the fact that he’s plenty aware he’ll be crying since he’s too tired to fight it. The dominatrix studies his young face thoughtfully, looking at the changes she sees there, smiles wryly at the maternal pride that surfaces and teases along her emotions. 

“Try to finish,” she says quietly, as he lays the spoon down, halfway through.

“Water? Please?” She ignores the tagged on please, and fills a glass with ice, the way she knows he prefers it, then runs cold water from the filter into it. He gives her his tired smile, and every instinct tells her that he needs to go straight to bed, and not with his brother, either. He’s slow to finish, and John’s coming out from showering just as Sam starts to obey her request.

She rises and takes the older man aside, confides her impressions to him, gets a nod. “Sam, you may look in on your brother, but you’re with me tonight. And we have some business to take care of, too, so don’t be long, kiddo.” His voice is gruff, sympathetic.

Sam moves faster than he has all night, darting for the bedroom. He disappears inside, and is back out in two minutes, looking far calmer. Now he’s able to look directly at his father and Tess – Dean’s deeply, peacefully asleep, and since the soft blanket is covering him up, Sam’s not aware of just how harsh the punishments were.

“Goodnight, Sam,” Tess says, and takes a seat on the couch. She may well sleep here tonight, but while John’s occupied with the boys, she’ll text the managers and be sure she’s not needed below in the club.

John takes a seat on the end of the king size bed, and beckons to Sam, who looks like he’s about to – no, already in tears. Dammit. He wraps his hand around Sam’s wrist lightly. “Sit down, Sammy.” There’s immediate obedience, and he’s so damn thankful. “You know what this is about.”

“I’m sorry for causing a ruckus and making you pull over,” comes the immediate and sincere answer. John pulls him in for a hug, holding him tight. Sam’s sense of responsibility is weighing awfully heavy on him, with the upcoming confrontation with the demon, and the knowledge of what he has to do. John would really rather let this go. But Sam’s voice is faced with guilt, and that’s where the tears are coming from. Well, they might be a result of how tired he is, but the two primary things that will bring Sam to tears are regret and guilt.

“Tell me the rule, what happens if I have to pull over and put you over my knee.” His voice is gentle.

Sam sniffles before he manages to catch his breath and answer. “We get spanked again when we reach base, sir.” he says, and John has to strain a little to catch the answer.

“Can we get this over with?” John’s question is rhetorical, but it’s not something he usually asks, he’s giving Sam the opportunity to refuse, to talk it over further, something he never does. Usually it’s because Sam’s resisting and trying to talk, and now, well, he wants to make sure the boy is ready.

“Yessir.” Sam rests his head on John’s shoulder, and a part of John just wants to tuck his little boy in bed. But there’s a job to do, and he neither shirks his responsibilities nor the expectations of his boys. He gently pulls, and Sam goes over his lap without protest, burying his face in his arm, catching a sob. John skims down the pajama pants, looking with regret at the pink bottom before him. The spanks are short and sharp, aimed to sting like hell, reawaken the skin sensitized by the spanking from earlier. Sam’s trying not to squirm, and John feels a tear of his own escape, because Sam usually fights a punishment like this one, and he’s crying hard after a dozen swats. John takes a slow breath as his hand comes down in measured time, placing a second dozen from the top of Sam’s bottom to the crease that met his thighs, the skin now glowing red. 

He eases the pajamas back up, and his muscles protest as he lifts his little boy up to cuddle – yes, dammit, cuddle him a little. The kid needs some comfort in his life, and the job they’re doing doesn’t leave a hell of a lot of room for it. No wonder he and his brother cling so tightly to one another. He rocks until the sobs fade out, and Sam’s trembling a little bit. A firm hand under the boy’s chin lets him study his youngest child, and he knows that it’s sheer exhaustion, rather than upset. 

“You’re with me, Sammy. I’m not as tired as Dean, and you wake me if you need something. Not one foot out of bed without me knowing,” he says, which is usually a regulation for when one of them is wounded, including himself. Sam just nods, and John tucks him in, smiling as Sam falls asleep before the boy quite manages getting comfortable. With the ease borne of long years of practice, he rolls Sam the rest of the way on his back, covers his little boy up.

Now for his other son. He nods at Tess, who sends a little sympathy in his direction. He knows why she’s waiting. She’d probably spend the night with him, if he didn’t need to look after Sam. Plenty of time for that while they’re here. He likes her company, the fact that she’s content to sleep on his shoulder, not press the issues of sex. Though he’s not sure he wants to hear everything she has to say, he can see it in her eyes.

Dean’s curled up in a little ball, one hand thrown out, as if questing for Sam’s presence. John sits down, brushes the hair away from Dean’s face, he’s in desperate need of a haircut, and John probably is too. The touch disturbs his boy, and the kid turns, blinking sleepily up at John.

“Daddy?” And that’s it, John would just rather not HAVE a heart, rather than have it crumbling like this all the time, with the stress, and the fear, and all the love he has for these two little boys hiding in men’s bodies, his little boys. He gathers up his tall son, and Dean’s arms go around his neck. John rocks a little bit, murmuring reassurances, telling Dean how much he loves him, that he’s proud of him, how much he relies on him, and how much he loves him. Dean’s not quite awake, too exhausted to wake enough for a coherent answer, but John gets the gist of the replies, Dean’s love answering his own. And there’s nothing he’d rather hear, than his little boy saying “Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Natalie Merchant - The Letter


End file.
